The FilmNerds Blog

Better late than never, right? Well, in this case… maybe not…

I can only speak from my perspective as a “Sex and the City” non-fan – never really watched the show, saw the first movie only out of the same obligation for which I see every other movie (because I MUST) – so take this with whatever grain of salt you need to, but “Sex and the City 2,” the big-screen sequel to 2008’s first film and the long-running HBO show, is an atrocity beyond anything I could have expected.

Frankly, I was no fan of the first film, either, but in hindsight, with this sequel, it looks harmless, almost quaint in a way, a relic of a simpler time when groups of women may have acted like garish stereotypes but at least had generally compelling or relatable motivations. Viewers will find nothing resembling that here, in which writer/director Michael Patrick King – reprising these duties after the first film – views the first 45 minutes or so as a perfunctory exercise to get his characters to Abu Dhabi, where… nothing much happens there, either.

The main conflict of the film, I suppose, revolves around protagonist everywoman Carrie Preston, nee Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker), whose marriage to whatever Chris Noth’s character is named is going well enough, though she’s sinking into an unfortunate rut, I guess, and tires of the routine of married life, preferring, I don’t know, her life of extravagance and nights out on the town to take-out and nights sitting on the couch. When an ill-conceived anniversary gift from the husband angers her (in a singularly infuriating scene – am I right, men who saw this movie? Am I right?), Carrie starts looking for time apart from her husband, and questioning the validity of her marriage because she feels the need to do so.

Meanwhile, Charlotte (Kristin Davis)’s kids are driving her crazy and a sexy new nanny (Alice Eve, who, the film is right on this at least, is sexy) is causing her some ill-defined anxiety in a subplot that never feels developed. Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) is struggling with a sexist new boss, though since this subplot only gets like one scene, it’s hard to consider this anything other than lazy shorthand to get her in some emotional place where she’ll agree to flightily take a trip with her girlfriends. And Samantha (Kim Cattrall – so good earlier this year in Roman Polanski’s “The Ghost Writer” but so, so bad here) is dealing with the advent of menopause.

All of these plots take a really, really long time to develop, as the majority of the first act seems to take place at the most extravagant gay wedding ever – and then, in spite of the film’s runtime, it all feels rushed. There are no stakes here because the emotions never feel developed or grounded in anything approaching reality – and say what you will about the first film, but that certainly wasn’t one of its problems, as anxiety surrounding marriage and infidelity were the prominent issues there and that’s all certainly relatable.

I suppose the problem is that King sought to make an “escapist” picture, in which his heroines escape their busy lives, travel to an exotic place and work out their problems in a nine-minute epilogue upon returning – but the film just comes off as trifling and insensitive, not only on cultural and religious grounds (I feel like enough has been written on that subject but OH MY GOD, who thought the climax of the film was a good idea) but economically speaking, too. I cannot think of a more ill-timed tentpole release than this, when the main characters’ chief concern upon trying to hurriedly flee from Abu Dhabi is whether or not they’ll be stuck in coach on the way back. I’m not trying to make some political statement with this review – the film is, frankly, not worth such thought – but making a film about four flighty women of privilege whose problems seem very much like problems people of lesser economic circumstance would kill for seems like a terrible idea in this climate. Judging by the box office, the people are voting with their pocketbooks – and rejecting this absurd, classist nonsense as they should. No amount of corny puns or fabulous clothes are worth sitting through this. So please don’t.

½ (out of four)